


The Mystery of the Boyfriend

by Fire_Bear



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Break Up, Deductions, First Meetings, M/M, Mystery, descriptions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: Detective Arthur Kirkland has a new case - investigating what happened to Ivan Braginski, former boyfriend of Alfred F. Jones. He did not expect Alfred to be quite so handsome...





	The Mystery of the Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be a 4th of July story, but it's told from Arthur's POV, so it feels more like an England-centric story instead. Also, it's a mystery because I was rereading [Sherlock Bones](https://www.anime-planet.com/manga/sherlock-bones) when I was trying to come up with an idea for this year's story. 
> 
> It's set in America, for no real reason, but that's the reason why Arthur doesn't comment on Alfred's accent - it's the same one he normally hears.

Detective Arthur Kirkland first met Alfred F. Jones when he came to his apartment to ask about his missing boyfriend. 

He was let in by the building supervisor and made his way up to apartment 4J where he’d knocked on the door. It wasn’t answered immediately, but Arthur could hear music and movement from inside. There was a burst of laughter and a teasing voice. Arthur allowed himself to wince: he was about to interrupt someone’s happy life once again. That was the one part of the job he hated. Then again, this Alfred F. Jones might very well be involved…

Finally, Arthur heard steps approaching and he drew himself up, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the police officer who had accompanied him was ready as well. When he turned back to the door, it was opened to reveal a tall young man who already had a friendly grin on his face. His blond hair was a mess, as if he’d run his hands through it at some point. One stubborn lock was defying gravity to stick straight up. A pair of glasses were in the process of sliding down his nose, doing absolutely nothing to hide his sparkling blue eyes. Muscles pressed against the tight, blue t-shirt that had ridden up from his waist to expose his happy trail. Some sort of necklace was hidden beneath the t-shirt; Arthur could see the outline and the glint of metal from around his neck. A pair of jeans were covered in some white substance that Arthur assumed was flour. His toes wiggled in his alien socks. 

In fact, he was the most handsome man that Arthur had encountered on a case and he had to sternly remind himself that he was working.

“Hi?” said the man, still smiling even while looking perplexed.

“Good afternoon,” Arthur replied. “I am sorry to interrupt what is clearly an attempt at baking, but would you be Alfred F. Jones?”

“Uh… yeah?” Alfred’s smile was slipping as he blinked at Arthur. He stared at the detective for longer than was strictly necessary, before he glanced at the officer and said, “What’s this about?”

“I am Detective Arthur Kirkland,” he told Alfred, holding up his ID. “And this is Officer Styles. We’re here to talk to you about Ivan Braginski.”

Alfred’s eyes widened so much that Arthur feared he’d be in pain. His jaw even dropped so that he gaped at Arthur for a few moments. “Ivan? You… You mean… Have you found him? After all this time?”

“We’ve made some progress,” Arthur said, avoiding the issue for the moment.

“Oh. Ah. Um.” Alfred half-turned to look into his flat, before turning back to Arthur. He stepped back and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, um, you should come in.”

Stepping into the apartment, Arthur took in the narrow hallway. There wasn’t really anything of interest, only doors that led to rooms. The walls were painted an off-white and there was a generic picture of a beach hung above a radiator. Scuff marks on the skirting board near the door indicated where things had been dropped down when coming home. A neat row of shoes were propped against one wall, closer to the door on the left. 

Once he had closed the door behind Officer Styles, Alfred led them to the door on the right. The living room was beyond it and Arthur took it in, making sure to observe all the little details. A thin grey carpet covered the floor with a rug covering that, the pretty sakura pattern making up for the dreariness of the rest of the floor. One wall was taken up by a window that overlooked the car park at the back of the building. Other buildings looked down on them, though none of them were especially tall. The other walls were a dull peach colour that had white bits showing through where the paint had been scraped off, small and unnoticeable, unless you were looking. A light hung from the white ceiling, the shade featuring cut-out stars. Arthur supposed that the room would appear to be swimming in inaccurate depictions of stars when it was switched on. In the centre of the room was a blue couch, the stitching coming undone and the cushions beginning to sag. A stars and stripes cushion and a Japanese flag cushion lay at opposite ends of it. At a right angle to the couch, was a navy armchair, a slightly different shade, just enough to be noticeable. They faced a large, wide-screen TV with a thick, black border: Arthur surmised that it was an older model. A PS4 and XBox One were next to it, the controllers left on the coffee table that was a couple of feet from the couch. Two stains left by glasses or mugs decorated the old, wooden table, as well as a couple of magazines: one from NASA and another about the business sector.

There were other, more personal touches to the room, Arthur noticed. Bookcases half-filled with books and DVDs and games. Some of the books were textbooks or scientific, while other strayed into the fantasy realms. With a glance, Arthur determined that the DVDs were of older movies; Alfred likely streamed TV shows and films on his games consoles. The games ranged from zombies to shooter games to mental puzzles. One of the bookcases had manga, both in Japanese and English. On the upper shelves, there were figurines, both of characters he had seen in popular superhero movies and characters that he assumed were from anime. Photos were propped up on a fake mantelpiece beside the door. The wall behind the television had a painting of a Japanese temple that hung a little crooked.

“Um, well, have a seat,” Alfred said, gesturing to the armchair before he hurried over to move a pale green cushion into position.

“Thank you,” Arthur replied, sitting down. Officer Styles moved around the chair to stand behind him; he’d been the one driving them to the apartment building and was likely stretching his legs. Alfred, meanwhile, sat at his spot on the couch which happened to be closest to Arthur.

“Alfred?” came a voice from the direction of the kitchen. Whoever it was had a very slight accent, Arthur noted, though their English was perfect. Probably someone who had moved to the country at a very young age. “Who is it?”

“It’s… It’s a detective,” Alfred called back.

There were footsteps and another young man appeared in the doorway. He was Asian, with short black hair and deep brown eyes. His face was smooth of any blemishes and slack with surprise. A yellow apron with a chick’s face on it covered his black trousers and grey t-shirt. Though the apron had likely saved his clothes from the flour, it had gotten in his hair and onto his arms. White socks were bright against the carpet, likely from a good washing powder or liquid. When he spotted Arthur and Styles, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head a little.

“Ah, oh, hello.”

“Good afternoon…?”

“I’m… I’m Kiku Honda,” the man told him, moving into the room more. “Has something happened? Is someone hurt?”

Arthur surveyed Kiku’s worried expression. “Why would you think that?”

“I just… Well, I can’t think of any other reason you would want to talk to us.”

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur said, “Actually, I was unaware you would be here, Mister Honda. I am actually here to talk to Mister Jones.”

“Oh, please,” said Alfred quickly, smiling at Arthur. “Just Alfred will do.”

“And you may call me Kiku,” the man added.

“Well, like I’ve already told you… Alfred… we are here to talk to you about Ivan. There has been… some progress.”

“What did you find?” asked Alfred, leaning forward.

“First, I would like to go over your statements from the last time you saw Ivan - I’m new to this case, so I would like to hear what you remember from _you_ rather than some note my predecessor wrote down.” Arthur looked over at Kiku. “If you have the time, I will ask you the same thing.”

“Of course,” Alfred said, sliding closer to Arthur and to the edge of his seat.

"First, I'd like to know when it was that you last saw Ivan."

Alfred grimaced. "It was the day before Valentine's Day," he explained. "I suggested that we meet then since we were both going to be busy the next day. Ivan had taken over his father's business, you see - some sort of fancy men's clothes."

"Do you remember the brand name?"

“I think it was just Moscow. It was definitely just one word.”

Behind him, Arthur heard Styles noting that down. Arthur didn’t bother: he had a good memory and would be able to recall it later, if needs be. “And the company did well?”

“Oh, yes. Ivan is always working hard. Though… I…” Alfred trailed off and looked over at Kiku who was quick to cross the room to sit beside him. Taking a breath, Alfred held his hand out to Kiku who quickly slipped his fingers between Alfred’s and squeezed in a show of comfort. They left their hands like that when Alfred turned back to Arthur. “I… I haven’t been keeping up with the company, since I never worked there and I… I’ve been busy.”

Arthur gave their hands a pointed look, but said nothing. “And what has been keeping you so busy?”

“Ah. I’m a physics teacher at the local high school.” Alfred raised his free arm and flexed, showing off the kind of muscles most people would enjoy. “Former firefighter, though.”

“Is this really the time for this?” Kiku murmured.

Grimacing, Alfred ducked his head in shame. “Sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his hand into his lap.

“A firefighter to a teacher, hm?” said Arthur. “Why the change?”

“I was supposed to be a teacher,” Alfred explained. “But I joined a voluntary firefighting service when I was in my last year of college and I decided to become a paid one. Ivan said I should do what I wanted and that he’d support us, if he needed to. So I did. It’s why this place looks like… this. I have a lot of student debts…”

“We’re looking for a different place, though,” Kiku interjected, squeezing Alfred’s hand once again. When Alfred looked at him, Kiku gave him an encouraging smile. “With my salary, we can afford somewhere else, and it’s better than trying to get our landlord to do anything about this place.”

“‘Our’?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I-” said Alfred, faltering before he’d gotten much further. “Kiku’s moved in just recently. It’s been almost eight months since…” He sighed, glancing towards the fake mantelpiece.

“I see. And what sort of work are you in that you can both afford to move?” Arthur asked Kiku.

“I run a graphic design company,” Kiku replied. “My salary can fluctuate, depending on custom, but we’ve been doing really well.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgement, thinking about the strange range of jobs the three men covered. “Well, let’s get back on track. You met on the thirteenth of February, correct?”

“Yeah,” Alfred confirmed. “Ivan wanted to go out to a fancy restaurant, but I wanted to stay in and… uh…” The blond’s cheeks turned red, indicating quite well what he had wanted to do with Ivan.

“Understandable,” said Arthur, dryly.

“Um, anyway, we exchanged presents, but…” Alfred grimaced then and bit his lip, his eyes shining with emotion. “We ended up having an argument about something stupid.”

“What was the argument about?”

Since Arthur was already looking at Alfred, he could see the way his free hand twitched. Whatever he had been wanting to do, he managed to resist. However, his eyes darted towards the door, the first indication that Alfred was uncomfortable. It let Arthur know that what he was about to say either wasn’t going to be the full truth or would be an outright lie.

“It was about the present he got me,” Alfred told Arthur. “I wasn’t happy with it, since it wasn’t something… I could display. I kinda blew up at him. And he got angry that I was rejecting- rejecting the present. Everything escalated very quickly and I was shouting at him to get out and he was doing that thing where he smiles too much to cover up how much he-” Alfred stopped and took a shaky breath. “How much he was hurting or how angry he was.” Ducking his head down, Alfred took a moment, his entire body trembling. “And… And then he walked out the door and I never saw him again.”

“I see,” said Arthur. “Do you know if he used public transport or travelled by car that day? Or even just walked?”

“He was usually driven places. But, since he was supposed to be staying the night, I expect he started walking to a better meeting point to be picked up? I’m really not sure.”

“Is there anything else you can remember? Anything odd, about him or others around him? An important CEO might make enemies, even in the most unlikely of places.”

“I… No?” Alfred frowned as he raised his head, looking straight at Arthur. “Are you saying that someone… someone kidnapped him?”

“Hm. Perhaps.” Arthur looked over to Kiku, who still held Alfred’s hand, watching him carefully. “And you, Kiku? Did you know Ivan?”

Kiku seemed surprised that he was being asked. “Oh. Yes, I did.” He tilted his head a little, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t the police make a note of this?”

“Like I said,” Arthur told him, unfazed by his suspicion, “I would like to start this investigation from the beginning.”

“Ah.” Kiku looked to Alfred who caught his eye, smiled, and nodded his assent. “We both knew Ivan from college. All three of us were friends, and we continued that friendship. When Alfred and Ivan started dating, we celebrated. But… Well, I didn’t think he’d disappear on Alfred like this. He’s been devastated.”

“But Kiku’s been a huge help,” Alfred informed Arthur, raising their joined hands and waving them to and fro. “And, after a few months, when we gave up hope, we… Well, we fell for each other - right, Kiku?”

“Yes. I love Alfred.” Kiku smiled sweetly at his boyfriend and Alfred, apparently smitten, helplessly smiled back.

When nothing more was said, Arthur asked, “And when was the last time that you saw Ivan, Kiku?”

“The week before,” Kiku promptly answered. “We had met up in a café since we all had a free weekend. It was only for an hour, and I didn’t see either Ivan or Alfred acting oddly.”

“No-one appeared to be following them?”

“I didn’t see anyone, but I was focussed on my friends, rather than the other patrons.”

Arthur thought about all the information that he had collected since he had arrived. Alfred was definitely hiding something, but he had the feeling that it wasn’t to do with the crime he was currently investigating. Kiku, however, seemed overly helpful and prompt with his answers, almost as if he was trying to sweep the entire disappearance under a rug. There was something off with both of their statements - but just who was the one who knew the most? He intended to find out.

“Thank you for the information,” Arthur said. “But I should probably tell you what we discovered that prompted me to come here.”

Alfred brightened at that, looking excited as he slid closer to the arm of the couch. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Did you find something? Where is he?”

“Two days ago, at three fifteen p.m., a body was found in a building site.”

Both men on the couch stilled, their eyes widening. Kiku, however, was quick to get over his shock, looking over to Alfred. He shuffled closer when he noticed how horrified Alfred looked. “A… body?” Alfred whispered, all joy gone. It looked wrong on him, and Arthur looked around the room before he replied.

“Yes. After forensic investigation - and using the DNA samples that you and his family gave us - we have confirmed that the body belonged to Ivan Braginski. There was a stab wound in his stomach and his throat had been slit. Then he had been buried in a plot of land that had been abandoned: someone had begun building on the site before their company went out of business and the project was abandoned. Recently, another company bought it over and have started tearing down all the previous work.”

“And he’s been there… all this time?”

Arthur noticed the tears in Alfred’s eyes, saw the grief and guilt threatening to overwhelm him. But was it guilt that implicated him in his boyfriend’s death? “It seems so. But this is why I am on this case. I will be thoroughly investigating his movements until I discover who did this.”

“You will?” Alfred turned to him then, hope in his eyes. As he did so, Alfred pulled his hand from Kiku’s. Behind him, Kiku’s calm façade flickered for a moment, almost too fast for Arthur to spot it. But he did, and he was interested to see that Kiku was annoyed.

“Of course,” Arthur said to Alfred. “It’s my job.”

“It’s more than that,” Alfred protested. With a final shift on his seat, Alfred finally leaned into Arthur’s space and, before Arthur could move, grabbed hold of his hands. “Please. I- _Thank you_. Just… It’s such a relief that someone will find out what happened. I’ve not-” Without thinking, Alfred pulled a hand away from Arthur’s and reached up to the hidden necklace, his fingers trailing lightly over the outline. “You seem… cool. I’m sure you’ll do it.”

“Yes…?” Arthur felt flustered. Not many people held his hand, after all. He desperately hoped he wasn’t blushing: that would be unprofessional… Movement caught his attention and he glanced at Kiku. He had folded his arms, his eyes gazing out of the window. Despite his neutral expression, Arthur could see that his jaw was clenched. Was Kiku jealous of the attention that Alfred was giving Arthur? Did Alfred often find people to flirt with? Or was Kiku annoyed that they had brought up Ivan? Had the three of them been as close as they would have people believe?

“Oh,” said Alfred, suddenly. “I suppose this means… that there’ll be a funeral?” He suddenly slumped, all of his enthusiasm drained from him. Letting go of Arthur’s hands, he turned back to Kiku who immediately lowered his arms, concern sweeping across his face. “We’ll have to see his family again…”

Kiku quickly gripped Alfred’s upper arms, forcing the man to look at him. “I will not let Natalya speak that way to you again,” he promised.

Nodding, Alfred slid towards Kiku. Kiku let go of Alfred and let his arms envelop the blond. He hugged Alfred close and Alfred laid his head on Kiku’s shoulder, his forehead pressed against him. Arthur wondered if that was how they were after Ivan had gone. Had Kiku comforted Alfred with touches and hugs? No wonder Alfred had fallen for him. After all, Kiku claimed to love Alfred, but Alfred…

Deciding it was past time to leave, Arthur stood. “We had best be going. Thanks to your cooperation, I have several lines of inquiry that I can pursue. I’m sorry for your loss, Alfred, but I may need to speak to you again. Perhaps you as well, Kiku.”

“Of course,” Kiku said, presumably for both of them, for Alfred didn’t speak.

“We’ll see ourselves out.”

“Thank you.”

As he left, Arthur paused in the doorway to watch as Kiku rubbed Alfred’s back in a soothing motion. Something about their relationship struck him as wrong, but he was sure it would come to light during the investigation. That sort of thing usually did…

* * *

The next time that Arthur saw Alfred, he made sure that Alfred would be alone by turning up at the school that Alfred taught at. It was a blocky building, made of breeze blocks that had been painted a pale yellow. Large signs helpfully pointed the way. If there hadn’t been a waist-high wall with a tall, black fence attached to it, it would have looked like a somewhat cheerful building. Instead, students emerged from the building in a surge, each one looking relieved and happy to be leaving for the day. 

Instead of waiting for them to get out of his way, Arthur waded in, head held high and glare slicing through them. They got out of his way easily enough, but some of them hung around to jeer at him. He ignored them, striding up the steps and inside, heading for the reception. There, he was directed to the appropriate room and he made his way there, taking in the achievements and posters stuck to the walls that had been painted a neutral cream colour. Lockers lined the wall, decreasing the space and making the area feel a lot like the prisons that Arthur had been in. It was no wonder that the children rushed to be free. 

Finally, he found the room - 417 - and knocked on the closed door. There was rustling and the sound of movement from within before a voice called out. “Come in!”

Opening the door, Arthur found a standard science classroom. Models of planets and chemical formulas hung by the windows. Bunsen burners were clustered on the corner of a counter. The students would sit on the stools provided at contained counters, each one with a sink and a connection to the gas. Flasks and tumblers and test tubes were lined up at the sink, ready for being washed. Behind the teacher’s desk, a whiteboard full of formulas and scientific words rested in its current position. Sitting at the desk, Alfred looked up from what he was reading, his glasses at the tip of his nose where they had clearly slipped down without his notice. It made him look older, cleverer and - Arthur was loathe to admit it - rather hot.

Seeing who it was, Alfred’s eyes widened and he quickly pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Oh! Detective Kirkland- Or can I call you Arthur?”

“It’s probably better to keep this professional, Alfred,” Arthur told him, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re working, but I’ve discovered some information that means that I need to ask you some more questions, I’m afraid.”

“Of course!” Alfred stood. “Please,” he said, gesturing to the chair, “have a seat.” He reached for a drawer. “Let me just lock the door.”

Arthur nodded and took the offered seat. There weren't many other places to sit, and he didn’t want to perch on the desk for this conversation. Once Alfred had locked the door, leaving the key in the lock, he returned to the desk, snagging a stool on his way for him to sit on. With both of them settled, Arthur cleared his throat.

“I’ve been looking into Ivan’s business dealings, trying to determine if he had any rivals or enemies dangerous enough to have done something like this. With the way that Ivan was killed… we were operating on the likelihood that it was a professional hit.”

Again, Alfred’s eyes widened. He raised a hand to his mouth, pressing against his lips; Arthur deduced that he was likely holding in a cry of shock and outrage. “Oh, my God,” he murmured, just loud enough for Arthur to hear him.

“We _did_ find people who would want Ivan dead. But not for business reasons.”

Alfred blinked and lowered his hand. “What? What do you mean?”

“Did Ivan ever talk to you about the kinds of things he did as a CEO?”

“Well, a little. There were forms he had to sign, and things he had to read. It wasn’t very interesting.” Alfred frowned. “Why would people want to kill anyone over a clothes business? There are loads of them; they could kill someone from a more famous and successful brand.”

“He never mentioned how his father started the business?”

“Huh? No? Why…? What are you talking about?”

Quietly sighing, Arthur looked down at the desk, noticing that Alfred had been reading a scientific journal. For all his intellect, Alfred was a little naȉve. However, it was not Arthur’s place to judge and he looked back up to Alfred. “I’m afraid that I found out that Ivan was lying to you. Or, rather, not telling you the whole truth.”

“What? But-” Alfred shook his head. “He wouldn’t…”

“I’m afraid he did. The clothing brand was real - _is_ real - but it’s a front for an organisation that commits a variety of crimes. In other words, he was part of this city’s worst threat.”

“The… The mafia?” Alfred sounded distant, as if his entire world had been turned upside down. If Arthur hadn’t seen this so many times, he would have grimaced. Instead, he waited until Alfred looked back at him. “Are you sure?”

“Undoubtedly. I’m afraid it’s slowed our investigation. There are a lot of people to look into in his own organisation and the other crime syndicates that his had interacted with.”

“Oh, God,” said Alfred on a shocked breath. His hand reached up to his chest and clutched at what he wore around his neck. Arthur narrowed his eyes at it. Was that something that could shed some light on Ivan’s death?

“I’m sorry to have to break this revelation to you like this,” Arthur said after a short silence, watching Alfred lower his hand to his lap. “But I do now have to ask if you remember any weird conversations. For example, did Ivan ever warn you away from any particular place or person?”

“I- No… I don’t think so. M-Maybe?” Alfred’s hands shook as he tried to force his way past the shock. “There… There may have been some things he didn’t want me to do and stuff, but I kinda ignored him. I-I don’t really remember what they were. I just remember how he would smile at me and say that there were some places or people that were bad and that I should be careful. God, I don’t know. I mean, he did say he was worried about me being a firefighter and that's why I changed careers, but…" Again, his hand shot up to hold onto the necklace, clutching it tightly this time.

“What is that?” Arthur finally asked.

Alfred jolted, clearly surprised that Arthur had noticed. “I… Um. It’s nothing. Just… a gift from Ivan.”

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur looked straight into Alfred’s pretty, nervous blue eyes. “The same one that caused your argument?”

Freezing, Alfred’s eyes darted away from Arthur’s. His entire expression, though upset, crumpled further. “Uh… Yeah,” he admitted. “Kiku… Kiku knows about it, but he doesn’t think I should be wearing it. If I’d known what would happen…”

“If you hated it so much that you had an argument, why are you wearing it? Was your argument really about something else?” Arthur’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Did you, perhaps, find out about Ivan’s deception and argue about that? Maybe you became so enraged that you-?”

“No! No, that’s not what happened at all!” Alfred hastily protested. He paused after his outburst, staring at Arthur. The detective frowned back at him, waiting. Finally, Alfred sighed and reached up to the chain around his neck. Carefully, he pulled it out from under his shirt in order to reveal what was on it.

A shiny ring dangled from the end of it.

“You… argued over this?” Arthur asked, perplexed. It seemed like something that anyone would be delighted to receive.

“He proposed to me,” Alfred explained. “I wasn’t happy at how… well, we hadn’t really done much that day. It wasn’t really romantic and I was a little upset about that. But… We’d also been having some trouble.”

“Trouble? You made it seem as if this argument was something uncommon…”

“They weren’t… We didn’t have a lot of them. But we’d fallen out for a couple of weeks around Christmas when he couldn’t come home- Oh.” Alfred lowered the ring into the palm of his hand, staring down at it. “He probably couldn’t come home because of…”

“So you’d had an argument about his lack of attention?” Arthur questioned him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Alfred said, sighing. “When he proposed, I was so happy, but then I remembered that I had hardly seen him at Christmas and, though he’d been there at New Year, he’d been distracted. And I just thought, ‘we’re not ready for this, why can’t he see that?’ and I just…”

“You said no?” Arthur guessed. 

“Yeah. And he just got so cold when I did. It escalated pretty quickly and it ended in me yelling at him to get out. Ivan said that he wouldn’t come back till I begged for him, and I told him I wouldn’t. By the time I realised that he’d left the ring, it was the next day. I was gonna give it back to him, but I couldn’t find him in the usual places, or at his family’s places. That’s when I called the cops to report him missing.”

“I see.”

“It… I felt so guilty. I thought I should have said yes.” Alfred suddenly looked up and right at Arthur, startling the detective enough that he twitched where he sat. “But… But now I find out that he’s - _was_ \- part of the mafia! Maybe… Maybe I was right to say no…?”

Arthur stared at the conflicted teacher, his eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall. Licking his lips, Arthur decided to do something that he’d never really done before: comfort the witness. He had never seen a point in doing so before. After all, there wasn’t much he could say to them when a loved one died through horrific means, nothing that could lift their spirits. Yet, seeing Alfred so upset stirred something within him, pushed him to say something, _anything_.

“I think,” said Arthur, slowly, “that both people in a relationship have to feel comfortable and happy before agreeing to something like that. Otherwise…” He stopped, thinking of cases he’d had to investigate where people had married at the wrong time. “It would make both people unhappy.”

Alfred’s eyes widened. A tear fell, tracing a path over the apple of his cheek and down to the corner of his mouth. Arthur had a strange urge to lick it off and quickly forced those thoughts and feelings deep, _deep_ down. Eventually, Alfred smiled, like a ray of sunshine slowly growing brighter as the clouds were swept away. “Oh,” Alfred said, looking far happier than Arthur had ever seen him. “You’re right.”

“Yes. Well. Anyway…” For the first time ever in an investigation, Arthur looked away from a witness he was questioning, too flustered to continue looking at Alfred. His heart was thumping a little faster than usual, and he wasn’t sure he enjoyed the strange sensation.

“Still, I didn’t want Ivan to _die_ ,” Alfred said, sounding forlorn again.

Quelling his feelings, Arthur looked up to see Alfred staring at the ring. A thought struck him and, frowning, he leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked on Alfred’s face. “May I ask why you were so quick to gain a new boyfriend who lets you keep your last boyfriend’s engagement ring around your neck? It seems as though you are still rather hung up on Ivan.”

That made Alfred look up, his expression twisting. Eventually, he visibly swallowed and spoke. “I, um, I’m over Ivan. Just… It’s just hard to find out that things were different than I thought they were.”

“And then you fell in love with Kiku?” Alfred grimaced at that question and Arthur straightened, aware that he had his answer. “Ah,” he said. “Kiku loves _you_ , but you don’t feel the same.”

“I- Just… Is this really helping your investigation?” Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It might,” Arthur replied. 

“That’s- You won’t tell him, will you?”

“I’m not going to get in the middle of… whatever is happening between you.”

“Okay. Thank you,” said Alfred, his grateful gaze almost making Arthur look away again. “I… Well. See… After Ivan disappeared, I texted Kiku straight away - we were all friends and I thought he should know. And, well, I was hoping for a shoulder to cry on. Kiku was always there for me whenever me and Ivan argued or broke up.”

“He was?” Arthur asked, his mind working. “Did he never take Ivan’s side?”

“Uh. Now that I think about it, no. But, then again, I’d met Kiku and Ivan separately and they only met each other through me, so I suppose he thought of me as a better friend than Ivan. Or, well, he stuck up for me because of his feelings? Anyway, when the weeks became months, Kiku was still there and I still relied on him. Then he confessed his feelings to me, and I…” Alfred scrunched up his face. “I didn’t want to lose him, so I said yes. It did help to get over Ivan, you know? Focussing on pleasing- Uh, I mean, focussing on Kiku. But, after a while, I realised that… I just didn’t feel the same way as I did about Ivan.”

“So you loved Ivan but can’t love Kiku.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Alfred said, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m not sure I was in love with Ivan either.”

“Really?”

“When I realised that I didn’t like Kiku in the same way, I went on a school trip and had a long think - when I wasn’t wrangling kids, I mean.”

“Of course,” said Arthur in an attempt to prompt him to continue.

“Well, I realised that what I had with Ivan was just… excitement at the mysteriousness of him and, y’know, the sex. I think he knew more about me than I did about him. Obviously.” Alfred looked down at the ring again and slowly curled his fingers around it, tight. Then, with a sudden movement, he tucked the ring out of sight beneath his shirt. “With Kiku, it was the opposite. It was comfortable. We both know each other very well, but he never says what he’s thinking, so I think I subconsciously thought it was the same as Ivan. But it’s not.”

“Then why not go your separate ways?” asked Arthur, perplexed.

Alfred smiled sadly. “I just don’t want to lose someone else. Not yet. And, after this…” Alfred sighed. “I think I should wait now, till this whole thing with Ivan is finished.”

Despite never having someone who could be his ‘Kiku’, Arthur understood. “I see. Well, it’s your decision.”

“Thank you, though. For finding out more about Ivan.”

“It’s my job,” Arthur told him. “And, because it’s my job, I do have to ask you: when you called Kiku about Ivan, did he show up immediately or…?”

“Yeah. What about it?” Alfred frowned at him, obviously trying to work out what Arthur was asking about. 

“What did he think about Ivan disappearing?”

“Uh… He said that he wasn’t surprised. That I should just forget about him and move on.”

“Did he usually say that after your arguments?” 

Alfred blinked at him for a moment. “Not… Not usually. Most of the time he just sat beside me while I complained or cried. Why?”

“I was just wondering when it was that he fell for you,” Arthur commented, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Ah. Haha…” Alfred reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah… Apparently, he’s been in love with me since college,” Alfred admitted. “But he saw that I was… _mostly_ happy with Ivan and didn’t say anything.”

“If that were the case, then what was different about this argument that he felt the need to tell you to move on?” Arthur asked, rather perplexed. “Was it because of the rejected proposal? Did he think that that was the end of your relationship?”

“I-I don’t know,” said Alfred, slowly. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“Yes…” Arthur stared down at Alfred’s desk, noting the pile of papers that seemed to be waiting to be marked. He used that fact to shake himself from his musings. “Well, you look like you are quite busy, so I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for answering my questions, despite how personal they became. And, once again, I am terribly sorry to bring Ivan’s deceptions to your attention.”

“No, I- Thank you,” said Alfred, standing when Arthur did. “And, uh, thank you for waiting until class was over to come find me.”

Arthur’s eyes widened before he could school his expression into something resembling neutrality. He hadn’t expected Alfred to realise that he had whiled away his day by filling out the appropriate forms rather than jumping on the new information. “Hm, yes,” he murmured, making his way to the door.

He had his hand on the key when Alfred spoke up again. “Um, hey, Detective Kirkland? Arthur?” 

Turning, Arthur looked back at him, wondering what was wrong. “Yes?”

“Do you think… Do you think, if I’d gone out with Kiku instead of Ivan… would he still be alive?”

Surveying Alfred’s guilty expression, Arthur’s heart squeezed. That in itself was disconcerting. He had seen several guilty loved ones who thought that one little choice could have saved them - not once had he felt for them in such a way. Still, Arthur had enough of his wits about him to reply. “There’s no way of knowing that just yet. But, if Kiku had told you his feelings while you were in college, would you have broken up with Ivan to be with him, or would you have rejected Kiku?”

“I… I don’t…” Alfred’s guilty frown deepened into consternation. 

While Alfred was hesitating, Arthur unlocked the door. Alfred didn’t notice that Arthur was in the process of leaving till he opened the door; his head shot up and he looked at Arthur with wide eyes, pain written across his face. “I have to go,” Arthur told him, trying to be gentle. “Er, goodbye. Sorry.” 

And, with that uncharacteristic fumbling, Arthur quickly swept out of the door.

* * *

Arthur didn’t see Alfred for a couple of weeks after that, though Alfred had used the number he had left to call a couple of times, timidly asking how things were going. Despite Arthur telling him that there was nothing he could disclose, Alfred hesitated to hang up. It usually meant that Arthur spent his days giving half his attention to what he was doing and half to Alfred babbling about his work and students. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to hang up on Alfred’s timorous voice. 

Then, finally, Arthur made some progress on the case. There was a single, tiny piece of evidence that had been overlooked by the killer and, after a lot of work, they had managed to narrow it down to one suspect. So, with Styles and another officer in attendance, Arthur went right back to Alfred’s flat. Once again, the building supervisor let them in and they were soon in front of the door. This time, however, there were voices, loud and audible.

“You can’t do this!” came Kiku’s voice.

“I’m _sorry_!” was Alfred’s response. “I didn’t mean-!”

“You- You- You were just _using_ me?!”

“No, I-!”

Grimacing, Arthur decided he’d heard enough and, with a quick rap on the door, silenced them. In fact, the silence lengthened. Just when Arthur was about to lift his fist to knock once more, the door was yanked open. Alfred was on the other side, wearing a t-shirt with a golden gauntlet, its fingers about to snap and jewels at the knuckles. It was rather faded and matched the faded jeans he wore, the material white in places. This time, his socks had tiny, cartoony Harry Potters on them, the burgundy colour at odds with the rest of his ensemble. His hair was in disarray, as though he had been running his fingers through it, and his glasses were a little askew.

“Ah, um, Arthur,” he said, his worried expression giving way for just a moment to a pleased smile. Then he grimaced. “Now’s not really a good time…” That was when he noticed the two police officers that Arthur had brought with him and, looking alarmed, he stepped back. “Uh, what…?”

"Good evening, Alfred," Arthur said, making sure his face didn’t give anything away. "May we come in?"

"Yes- But what is this about?" Alfred asked, beginning to look stressed. "Can't it wait?"

"I'm afraid not."

So, with some reluctance, Alfred stepped aside. Arthur gave him a nod of thanks and walked in, heading for the living room. There, he found Kiku, cheeks red and a small frown on his face. This time, there was no apron, just a baggy, blue t-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms. He looked ready for bed. On the couch was a thin, red dressing gown which would only reach a person's thighs.

Once Alfred had entered the room, Arthur stood in front of the two men. He saw Alfred’s gaze flick to the armchair but ignored the blatant invitation. Glancing at the door, he saw that Styles had taken up position inside the room, back to the door. The other officer was likely at the front door, ready to ward off visitors and catch guilty parties, should they run.

"What’s going on?" Kiku demanded. He sounded irritated and, perhaps, a little angry, probably lingering from their argument.

"I know this is a bad time, but we believe we now have a suspect," Arthur informed them. "I thought you should know before we make an arrest."

"Really?!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes wide with joy. "I thought it was going to be really hard to discover who did it, and you've managed it in a couple of weeks? That's amazing!"

Arthur was startled by the compliment, but he tried not to let it show. "I was only doing my job," he insisted. 

"Of course you were," Kiku piped up, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, "and you did it well."

"I… Well, thank you." Arthur took a breath, his gaze roving over the room. "Would you like to know what happened?"

"Yes," said Alfred immediately, ignoring Kiku’s shake of the head. " _Please_."

"The first odd thing about this case," Arthur began, "was the manner of Ivan’s death."

Both men blinked at him. Eventually, Alfred said, "Wasn’t he stabbed?"

"His throat was slit as well," Kiku reminded him.

"Exactly," said Arthur. "Why slit his throat when you've already stabbed him? It would make much more sense to make it look like a mugging in that case. Or, why would you stab him if you've already slit his throat? From the start, we knew one of those injuries was to distract us."

"Do we really need to talk about this?" Alfred asked. He was grimacing and had a hand at his neck - a neck, Arthur noticed - which didn't have a chain around it.

"I think we do," Arthur said. "You see, there is one other injury that Ivan had that we should consider."

"Another? God, that's just sick!" Alfred exclaimed, indignantly. Beside him, Kiku shifted uncomfortably. 

"He had been hit over the back of the head with something with a sharp edge."

"The murder weapon?" Alfred suggested. 

"No," said Arthur. "Whatever killed him was whatever was used to cut his throat. It severed an artery and he bled out. Judging by the bruising and the blood found on his clothes, the other two injuries happened beforehand."

"So… So he was knocked out and dragged somewhere else to be killed?"

"That was what we thought until the coroner completed his autopsy. When he gave us his report, we noticed that the blow to the head could have been caused by his head hitting something with an edge, rather than something hitting him." Arthur turned a little and softly kicked the coffee table. "Something like this."

There was a sudden silence. Both Alfred and Kiku stared at Arthur, mouths agape. It took them a few minutes to get their wits about them, but, when they did, Alfred was the one to speak. “You… You can’t think that _I_ -?”

“Wouldn’t it make sense?” Arthur said, turning from them to pace the room. Alfred’s hurt expression was getting under his skin and was about to ruin his grand reveal. “An argument that got out of control… From what I’ve heard, Ivan could be quite possessive. Maybe he crowded you or grabbed you. Whatever happened, you pushed him and he hit his head-”

“No!” Alfred cried, twisting in his seat as Arthur strode behind the couch. “That’s not what happened! I didn’t- I _never_ hurt Ivan!”

“There is no way Alfred could have done this,” Kiku protested, turning his head to watch Arthur step around the end of the couch. “He would have called for an ambulance if Ivan was hurt, not cut up his body to make it look like a different murder.”

Arthur caught Kiku’s gaze, watching him as he came to a stop in front of him. “Then perhaps he had some help?”

Kiku looked a little panicked. “What? No!”

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked, his face now ashen.

“Evidently, you had to have help,” Arthur told him. “There’s no way that someone could get someone of Ivan’s build out of this building without noticing. And Kiku is just the man to help you, isn’t he? He’s in love with you; he’d do anything for you. Wouldn’t you, Kiku?”

“I-” Kiku looked at Alfred, both of them frantic. “That’s true… But it’s not what happened!”

“Oh? And how would _you_ know that, Kiku? He could easily have found someone else to help him.”

“No!”

“Please,” Alfred interjected, tears in his eyes. “Arthur. Why are you doing this?”

“It’s not Alfred’s fault!” Kiku continued to protest. 

“Really? And yet, when we came here, we heard you arguing.” Arthur turned to Alfred. “Was it just like that night? Could you see Ivan in your mind?”

“That’s- Our argument was _nothing_ like mine and Ivan’s,” Alfred firmly told him, lifting his chin in defiance. Arthur almost smiled at the sight.

“What was it about?”

Wincing, Alfred crumpled a little. He glanced at Kiku who was now frowning, as if in thought. Before Alfred could answer, Kiku spoke for him. “He was breaking up with me.”

“Was he, now?”

“Wait-” said Alfred, but Kiku didn’t acknowledge him.

“I thought it was strange that he leaned on me so much after Ivan’s disappearance,” he said, looking up at Arthur earnestly. “But I was so blinded by love that I just accepted it, as I did his feelings. Though, in the end, those were just fake.”

“Fake? I don’t think his feelings were ever fake,” said Arthur, allowing himself to smirk.

Kiku blinked at him. “That is what you were implying, right?”

“Not at all,” Arthur replied, turning on his heel to pace around the room once more, waving a hand as he went. “I was merely curious about the argument. However, it has just reconfirmed several things for me.”

“Like what?” asked Alfred, voice despondent. Arthur was glad that he had his back to the man: he could feel the urge to comfort Alfred growing ever stronger.

“The murder could not have taken place here. Nor did you hurt Ivan, Alfred.”

“Huh?”

“Then, what…?” Kiku began. “Didn’t you come here to arrest him?”

Arthur didn’t reply at first. Instead, he looked over the happy photographs that were on the shelf. There were some of Alfred and his family, Alfred and Ivan, and even a couple of Alfred and Kiku. Arthur almost scoffed at the grins and laughter that could be clearly seen in the still images. Thankfully, he stopped himself by spinning around to stride to the armchair. Only once he was perched on the arm of it, did he answer.

“Oh, no, Kiku. Alfred never killed or hurt anyone. Ivan left here very much alive.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one: the original investigation, looking into his disappearance. They questioned the people in this building and one person, on the third floor, saw Ivan storming out of the building. ‘Almost took the main door off its hinges’, they said. And for another, we have other evidence that shows that Ivan was stopped by someone not far from here.”

“What? Who?” said Alfred. He looked very confused. Kiku, meanwhile, was wide-eyed.

“Someone you both knew very well. Someone who was forced to park a street away due to how full the car park was. Someone who was on their way to see you, Alfred. Someone who got into an argument with Ivan and pushed him over - and head first onto the garden wall.”

“But…” Alfred looked over at Kiku. When he noticed, Kiku quickly shook his head. 

Arthur didn’t let him protest his innocence further. “This person panicked, thinking Ivan was dead. Their plan was to get rid of the body and to make it look as though he’d been attacked by someone in a mugging. Unfortunately, this involved dragging Ivan to his car, throwing him in the boot and driving him away to an alley. They had to stop off to buy a knife, of course, and so they had their alibi of being at the supermarket when the murder took place.”

“But,” Alfred said again, voice trembling. “But that was… Kiku?”

“No. I didn’t do any of that!” Kiku exclaimed, holding his hands up as if to placate both Alfred and Arthur.

“Once they had a knife,” Arthur continued, “they dragged Ivan into the alley and stabbed him. Unfortunately, they hadn’t counted on Ivan still being alive. The pain from the knife slicing into him woke Ivan, and the killer panicked. With Ivan still woozy and now bleeding from the abdomen, they went behind him and slit his throat - after all, if he took Ivan to the hospital now, they would know who it was and he’d be arrested for GBH at best.”

“No,” said Kiku. “I didn’t…”

“And then they took him to that abandoned building site and buried the body, hoping that it would never be found. It wouldn’t have been, had it not been for the work happening there now.”

“You…” Alfred was staring at Kiku in growing horror. “You did all that?”

“No!”

“He did,” Arthur said.

“You have no evidence that I did anything of the sort!” Kiku snapped, his gaze shifting between Arthur and Alfred. Evidently, the man felt trapped.

“Oh, but I have.”

“What?” Kiku looked shocked and horrified. 

“Well, firstly, there was the footage from traffic cameras. It doesn’t place your car at this building, but it _did_ show that you took an awfully strange detour from the supermarket. And, when I checked, you were also on several cameras that you should not have appeared on.”

“That doesn’t mean I killed Ivan!” Kiku protested.

“As it happens, what proves it is what a witness said about you at the supermarket,” Arthur said, watching Kiku’s confusion. “You had parked as close to the door as possible, wanting to keep an eye on the car. In other words, the cashier could see your car as well. And she watched you put all your shopping bags into the _back seats_ instead of the boot.”

“I- I just had other things in the car.”

“Like what?”

“I- That’s none of your business!”

“It is when it’s part of a murder investigation, Mister Honda,” Arthur commented.

“There has to be other evidence,” Alfred said. When Arthur glanced at him, he was sitting as far from Kiku as he could, gripping the arm of the couch. “You wouldn’t have come here with just that.”

“Of course not,” Arthur replied with a smile.

“There’s nothing else because I wasn’t there!” Kiku insisted.

“You were.” Reaching into his coat pocket, Arthur removed an evidence bag from within. Inside it was a single, square button. Alfred’s eyes widened. “This is the proof that you were at that building site.”

“What?” Kiku shook his head. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It was found under the body, likely pulled off when the body was pushed into the hole the person had dug.”

“That’s…” Alfred began. He stopped and stared at Kiku for a moment. “That’s from that old coat of yours. The one you always used to wear. You… You sold it, just after Ivan disappeared.”

“That could be from any coat!” Kiku responded.

“Really?” said Arthur. “I saw a picture of you wearing this in Ivan’s room at his family home. And, when I was asking you questions, you mentioned that you had gotten rid of quite a bit of odds and ends because you were moving in with Alfred. I went to the places you said you’d given the stuff to and I was able to confirm that you’d sold that coat. They remembered because the man who bought it from them asked them to drop the price a little because one of the cuff buttons was missing from the left sleeve. This button matches the others on it.”

Kiku stared at him, his mouth opening and shutting. When he looked towards Alfred and saw the hurt in his face, Kiku’s brow suddenly furrowed. It seemed to Arthur as if he had snapped, especially when Kiku turned back to Arthur and said, “Fine! I did it. I killed him.”

“No…” gasped Alfred.

“You never liked Ivan, did you?” Arthur asked, quietly.

“Of course not!” Kiku exclaimed. “He was evil. And the way he was with Alfred… Alfred deserved better! The way Ivan always argued with Alfred with that smile, that condescending smile. I _hated_ seeing Alfred so upset, and it was _always_ Ivan’s fault. I _hated_ him. He _knew_ that I was in love with Alfred - it’s the only reason that he started trying to get Alfred to go out with him. To one up me.”

“What?” said Alfred, quietly. 

“So, when you found out that they’d had another argument…” Arthur prompted, ignoring the hurt in Alfred’s eyes.

“I told him to leave Alfred alone for good,” Kiku told them. “But then he told me that he’d proposed and it was only a matter of time before they were married.” Kiku looked to Alfred as if he expected the man to understand. “I couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let Alfred go through that hell. So I told him that I’d tell Alfred I loved him while they’d fallen out and Ivan tried to intimidate me. I just… He was so infuriating and I- I pushed him. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this, but I couldn’t leave Alfred on his own. I can’t let Alfred go through that.” Kiku reached for his boyfriend - or ex-boyfriend at this stage.

Alfred shook his head, leaning away from Kiku. “How could you-? How could you do this?! How could you do this to me? To us? To _Ivan_? I-” Still shaking his head, Alfred abruptly stood from his place and walked towards the door. Styles stepped aside to let him pass before moving towards Kiku.

“Wait!” Kiku called after Alfred. “Don’t go, Alfred! I-I need-!” He broke off when Styles unhooked his handcuffs from his belt. 

“Kiku Honda,” said Arthur. “You are under arrest for the murder of Ivan Braginski. Read him his rights, will you?” Before Styles could protest, Arthur stood from the chair and made his way around the couch, striding through the door and into the hall, pausing for only a moment before heading towards where the bedroom would be.

Unsurprisingly, the bedroom was as shabby as the living room. However, the Spiderman duvet cover, the Deadpool cushion and the various posters of action and superheroes that were stuck on the walls made it look a little more homely and personable. An old wardrobe leaned against a squat chest of drawers; stickers of cartoon characters and dinosaurs and mermaids and rainbows decorated them. The bed, however, looked fairly new, as if that was the most important part of the room. Blue curtains provided colour against the cream walls and carpet. Two lamps were on either side of the room while a mobile of stars hung where the main light should have been. Directly under it, curled at the foot of the bed, lay Alfred.

Careful not to startle him, Arthur approached, listening to him gasping and sobbing into his duvet. He stopped in front of Alfred and the man suddenly shifted so that he could look up at Arthur. "I'm so stupid!" he wailed. "I don’t deserve to be a teacher."

"Don't be silly," Arthur replied, reaching out to him. He paused before he actually laid a hand on Alfred, wondering what he was doing. Then Alfred gave a great sniff and his hesitation was swept away. Patting his shoulder, Arthur added, "It can happen to anyone. Even me."

"Even you?" Alfred asked, quietly. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, though the tears continued to fall.

"Yes, even me. But it’s a long story, and I still have things to do. Don’t beat yourself up about this, okay?" Arthur squeezed his shoulder, hoping that would keep him from falling apart.

"Are… Are you gonna go?" Alfred’s voice was small, almost quiet enough to make Arthur lean down to hear him better. 

"I need to get you a grief counseller, amongst other things," Arthur explained. "And the officers can't take Kiku away until I-"

"No!" cried Alfred, grabbing Arthur’s wrist. "Please don’t go! Don't leave me like this!" He stopped and took a breath as Arthur stared at him, watching his tear-stained face look up at him with determination. "I want you to stay."

Arthur stared into Alfred’s sparkling eyes and saw the hope and yearning within. This wasn’t just a plea for Arthur to stay through the tears. It wasn’t a desire for someone to keep the loneliness at bay. No, _this_ was why Alfred no longer had a chain around his neck. And it was the reason for the phone calls and the break up. 

Deep within Arthur, he was rather pleased that Alfred would do all that. There was something about Alfred: the earnest way he answered Arthur’s questions, the way he gave Arthur all of his attention, the cheerful way he had greeted him at the school. All of it drew Arthur to Alfred, made him want to protect the guy, to pull him close and shut out the world that had made those tears roll down his cheeks. But a bigger part of him knew that that could also be a bad thing.

"It’s not a good idea," Arthur told him, as gently as I could. "You've just had two rather big shocks. I know that you want someone to fill that void-"

"That’s not what-!" Alfred began.

"-but you should take some time to get over this. You rushed into things with Kiku - do you really want to do the same with me?"

"Arthur…"

"I have to go now." Arthur squeezed Alfred's shoulder one last time. "Stay strong." And, with a twist of his arm, Arthur pulled out of Alfred’s grasp. He backed off, biting his lip when he saw how upset Alfred was.

Still, Alfred didn’t give up. "Please," he said. "Don't go."

Before Arthur could reply, a voice called for him from the front of the flat. He turned his head in its direction before returning his gaze to Alfred. "I'm sorry." And, without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and strode from the flat, trying not to think of the man he was leaving behind.

* * *

The next time Arthur saw Alfred, it was three months and several persistent phone calls later, in a small café for their first date.


End file.
